As’ad didn’t bother to stop the growing smile on his face. Warmth blossomed behind his breastbone at her kindness. “I would love to talk about my rats, actually. Thank you.”
The next few hours were completed with laughter and the occasional tear. As’ad told her all about Bruno, his asocial rat who preferred to hide in his cage andnotinteract with the others; Ghuldi, who had golden-tan fur and a penchant for hoarding; Easal, his sweetest-tempered rat; and the worst rat he ever had who had earned the moniker Aladdin. As’ad didn’t mention that the cranky rodent was named after his former leader, but she didn’t push for more.
Rahma asked questions at the appropriate moments and laughed in all the right places. She was especially curious to hear tales of Barie, who was so obsessed with nest-building that As’ad often found everything from clumps of hair to torn embroidery in the cage. And about Fantum, who ghosted in and out of places with more stealth than any of the others.
Per her request, they stopped for the midday meal near a crossroads. As’ad aimed to continue heading south before turning west. The major throughway that intersected their path was a more direct route out of the country. As’ad had yet to change his original plan of working through the smaller border towns, and Rahma hadn’t voiced an opinion either way. Perhaps she hadn’t realized they were taking the long way to Jabal. Her sense of direction, or lack thereof, was what had lumped them together in the first place. As’ad resolutely ignored the voice at the back of his mind pointing out that he could be rid of her much faster if they turned west now. He also quashed the other part that wanted to explore exactlywhyhe was prolonging their time together.
Rahma may not have had an informed opinion about their progress, but she did take advantage of the many travelers available. She asked anyone who would slow down for a moment if they had encountered or misplaced any orphans lately.
A surprising number of people reported knowing orphans or other outcasts heading to Jabal. Rahma was unable to collect any more accounts about Hadia, though she still believed her friend was traveling with the woman. As’ad agreed that the amount of orphans heading west was unusual, but he didn’t find it as suspicious as Rahma was determined to believe.
That afternoon, the desert dipped farther south, pushing the growing greenery aside once more. As’ad was a little grumpy about that fact; Rahma didn’t seem bothered at all. Then again, not much seemed to bother the eternally cheerful young lady.
“Ooh, what’s that?”
As’ad looked up from his irritable examination of the sand collecting in mini dunes that obstructed the path. When he saw the shiny half-buried object that she was reaching for, a wordless shout erupted from his lips.
She hastily pulled her hand back, then looked at him in question. When he didn’t say anything immediately, she reached down and pulled out a jagged tube of glass. His heartbeat returned to normal when he saw what it was.
“It’s just a broken bottle. Were you expecting a djinn?” she teased.
His laugh was forced. “Please don’t joke about the djinn.”
Her expression was thoughtful; then she discarded the item over her shoulder. As she often did once As’ad was paying attention, she moved the conversation to something that distracted him from the things he wouldn’t discuss.
“That pipe of yours is kind of an unusual shape, isn’t it?” She meandered over to join him on the main path. “Think it could possibly be the horn of a shadhaver?”
As’ad could truthfully say he hadn’t given the matter much thought. Unlike the human-crafted instruments that were usually made of wood, his pipe had an unusual texture and shape. It was long and thin with little holes that could be covered with his fingers to change the sound, but now that he thought about it, it wasn’t a normal color, either.
“I know that type of faery has been extinct for centuries,” she mused, “but you said it was found in some sort of cave. Who’s to say it hasn’t been sitting there for that long?”
“Is that the one that wandered around enchanting people and animals?”
“Looked kind of like a gazelle with one horn and ate whatever it dazed? Yeah, I think so.”
“Huh.” He shrugged. “Sounds reasonable enough to me. I wonder if there are any depictions of a shadhaver somewhere.”
“Good question. It seems likely; we’ve got art and books dedicated to every other topic under the sun.”
A high-pitched, loud, but clearly distant bird shriek pulled both of their gazes to the sky. Far, far to the north of them, just visible against the pale blue of the heavens, something white circled.
“Is that a rukh?” Rahma asked, using the Sharamilan name.
As’ad knew they were called rocs in other countries. “You ever seen one before?”
“No,” she breathed out in wonder.
The fantastically enormous birds were native to Fanostrin. As’ad had seen them from afar during his journeys through the northern part of Sharamil.
“I wonder what it’s doing so far south?” He stopped pulling the cart.
Rahma had already paused. “It’s crazy to think that we wouldn’t even be able to see him if he wasn’t so huge.”
The pair watched for another moment or two before the winged creature tilted north and flapped out of sight.
A little later, Rahma posed an academic question that As’ad had never considered before.
“What distinction—or distinctions, I suppose—do we use to categorize some creatures as faeries and others as just animals?”
